Emily McLaughlin

The Girl She Was

Smiling. Laughing. Hugging. Dancing. Celebrating.

Selfies. Candids. Portraits. Videos. 

Black.

The stream of photos ends. March 23rd, 2018. That was five months ago. Five months of not seeing the girl that lived next door. The girl who’s been my inseparable best friend since the day we met 15 years ago.

Playdates. Sleepovers. Bikes. Movies. 

Growing up. Wearing makeup. Discovering boys. Discussing college. 

We planned to attend the same university. Planned everything. She would major in architecture– using her brilliant mind to create astonishing structures. I would major in art history– collecting, analyzing, and creating beautifully agonizing pieces of the soul. 

But that plan changed. 

I no longer care to study the intrinsic designs of history– no longer care to spill my heart onto a canvas. That artistic, colorful, inquisitive part of me died with her.

The fulfillment she brought turned hollow. But, eventually, that hopelessness morphed into determination– determination to become the person who could save her instead of the one sitting shell-shocked as I watched the light fade from her eyes. 

Today’s her birthday. My first day of college. Up those steps is my first class: Human Biology.

I look down at the photo on my phone– her smiling face, shining blue eyes, and one arm wrapped around my shoulders as I laugh with my eyes closed. Her brightness repairs a small piece of my shattered heart. For the first time in five months, I smile.